Detective First Grade: Love Struck
by SalSassy
Summary: Collection of one-shots exploring the relationship of Mike Logan and Olivia Benson. A/U timeframe beginning in 1993 to present. Chapters will range from K to M. There will be trigger chapters and character deaths. You've been warned.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Art In Motion**

"My God she's beautiful", Logan said out loud unknowingly. His partner, Max Greevey, simply smirked at his partner while taking a glance at the mystery woman. He took a long look at the woman before looking at his friend, "She is a knockout buddy. Go talk to her." He laughed at the bewildered look on Logan's face. He shook his head vigorously, "No. I'm not doing that." Greevey was perplexed, "Why not Romeo? Did you finally meet your match?" Mike downed his coffee and tried to ignore his partner. "That woman is too, she's too—" "Spit it out Mike." "Good for me", he muttered. "What makes you think that partner?" Mike let out a long sigh, "Just look at her. She oozes class and grace. She admires the art; we're here on a stakeout!" Max took the moment to tease his friend, "I thought you'd say that she was too young for you. That, I would've agreed with." Logan cut his eyes at Max. "That's not funny Max." Max looked in the binoculars, "Curator is getting antsy. Would you like to go inside and get better eyes on him? I'll refresh our coffee." Greevey was out the car before Mike could protest. He grumbled and slowly walked towards the door of the art gallery. Every step closer to the door made his heart beat faster. He wasn't even remotely nervous about the curator…he was nervous about her. He straightened his tie, that he now felt like was tacky and confusing. He spoke to himself, "It's now or never Logan" before opening the door and walking inside.

It took every fiber of his being to not search for her and instead focus on his job. He tried to be inconspicuous but only succeeded in making the already jumpy curator more paranoid. He smelled blackberries and champagne—but it was the soft husky voice that gave him goosebumps. He heard, "You should turn around and talk to me so that your surveillance isn't so obvious." He felt the sweat beading on his forehead as he turned around. Her beauty was mesmerizing from a distance, but she looked so much better up close. Her brown eyes made him melt, her flawless skin made her look angelic, her bouncy hair looked silky, and her lips looked like soft pillows. Her took the time to look her up and down. He appreciated that she was tiny, with some curves. He could tell that she was toned and took pride in her appearance. He finally brought his eyes back up to her and found his voice, "Am I that obvious?" She laughed, "Yes and no. Yes, because you feel extremely out of place here. No, because to the average person, you look like a man whose girlfriend or wife dragged him to a boring art show." Logan picked up on what she was saying, "You don't consider yourself the average person?" The woman smiled wide, "No, like you I am one of NYPD's finest." He couldn't hide the expression of shock, "You're a cop?" She shook her head yes, "I'm not a detective like yourself, but I am still walking a beat. The guy you're looking at isn't a shot caller. He's a puppet." He scoffed, "How would you know something like that?" "He keeps looking at his watch, then the clock. Every 15 minutes, he takes a double shot of bourbon. I don't know about you, but none of these paintings get me that stressed out. Also, he's trying to look like something he's not. He's wearing a knockoff Armani suit—a good one—but still a fake. His shoes are simple warehouse shoes…not something a wealthy man would wear." Logan looked at his own attire. "What does that say about me? You must come from money?"

The woman chuckled, "No, I just like to shop and I've dated men that are very well off. Your suit is fine, even the tie that you regret putting on. It's different and attention-getting." She moved closer to him, "You know what that tells me?" He gulped hard and willed his heart to slow down, "What?" "It tells me that you take pride in being different and standing out to the opposite sex." She looked up at him through thick lashes and leaned in to whisper in his ear, "You don't have to go to such great lengths. I spotted you from the moment you and your partner pulled up. I hope you get your guy." She turned to walk away, but he grabbed her arm. He regretted it when he realized that he'd never touched skin that soft before. "I di-did-didn't get your name" he stuttered out. She smiled and leaned into his touch, "I didn't get yours either. I'm Olivia, Olivia Benson." He shook her outstretched hand, "Mike Logan." "Good luck Mike." "Thank you, Olivia." The two parted and Olivia left the art gallery with a wide smile on her face. Mike saw Max and went back to the car. He knew Max's teasing was coming, "What Max?" Greevey chuckled, "I'm just simply amused by the smiles the two of you are wearing. Wait until the house hears about this" Logan groaned and rolled his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Hello There **

Olivia had just made Detective and was celebrating with some of her girlfriends. They were rock-climbing before getting dinner. Olivia was about to lock into her harness when she heard someone struggling. She turned to see a preteen girl having trouble adjusting her harness. She walked over to help, "Can I help you with that?" the girl nodded yes. Just as Olivia finished, the girl acknowledged someone else. "Uncle Mike, I'm ready now that this nice lady helped me." The man said, "Well, I suppose we owe this nice lady a thank you." Olivia knew that voice; she hadn't heard that voice in over a year, but she still knew it. Mike's smile faltered slightly when he caught a whiff of her scent. It was the same blackberries and champagne that took him months to get out of his system. He never thought he'd run into her again, yet he knew that it was her standing so close to him. Olivia turned around and smiled brightly, "Mike Logan, it's been a while." "Olivia Benson, yeah it's been about 1 ½ years." He blushed after his admission and she smiled at his sudden shyness; the kids that he was with scattered once they started talking. "You've been counting?" she asked as she toyed with her harness. He ran a nervous hand through his thick hair and admitted, "I honestly though that I'd never see you again. You look…you look amazing." It was Olivia's turn to blush, "I made Detective." Mike surprised her by picking her up in a tight hug, "Congratulations." He realized what he was doing and put her back down carefully, "I'm sorry." Olivia blushed again, "It's okay. Thank you for being so happy for me." "Well, you're inquisitive. You deserve it. You'd be great."

The pair had unwittingly ignored their respective groups due to not wanting their conversation to end. Olivia ignored her sweaty palms and the butterflies in her stomach, "So, did you ever catch your guy?" Mike laughed, "Actually, you were right. He was a puppet, but yes—we got him and his boss." "That's great." "Thank you." They stood there like a bunch of awkward teenagers so, Mike asked "Do you have your assignment yet?" Olivia wiped her hands on her leggings, "Not yet. I just made Detective…this morning." They both let out full-bellied laughs almost to the point of crying. Olivia's friends successfully got her attention and she turned around with a regretful look, "I'm sorry Mike but we have dinner reservations." "It's okay. Congratulations again Olivia." Olivia grabbed a marker from a nearby table and scribbled something into Mike's hand. He looked down to see a phone number, "Don't be a stranger Mike." He smiled at his hand, then her "I won't Olivia." The two parted ways, but Mike ensured that he wouldn't be a stranger. He called her phone later that night, and the two talked until the sun started to rise. If you would've told Mike that the next week of his life would make him dependent on her, then he'd told you to shove it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: I Miss You Max**

The pain was too much to bear. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Max's face. Max was his best friend and he couldn't believe that he was gone. Every breath he took made his heart constrict in pain. Olivia attended the memorial service and even stopped by his home to check on him. She worried because she knew that he was either using alcohol or blind rage as a coping tool. She left countless voicemails on his phone even after the mailbox was full. She finally stopped calling and hoped that he was taking care of himself. She felt sorrow for a fellow fallen brother officer, but she felt like it went deeper than that because he was so important to Mike. Through their long talks—everyday, since she'd given him her number—Mike told her that Max was the one that gave him the push to talk to her. Olivia's thoughts stopped racing when there was a loud, uneven knock at her front door. She grabbed her gun and went to the door. Upon opening the door, Olivia's heart broke when she saw a defeated Mike leaning against her door jamb. She put her gun down and let him in; he plopped down on her couch. Olivia walked over to him and stood in-between his legs. The minute she was in front of him, Mike broke down into heart-wrenching sobs. He wrapped his arms tight around her waist and buried his head against her stomach. Olivia held him tight to her and let him get it out. "His back was turned. What kind of coward shoots him in the back twice and then in the face? He had to have a closed casket. He's gone forever. My God, Olivia he's gone. My best friend is gone."

Olivia pushed him back a little and straddled his lap; she brought him back to her and comforted him. She ran her hands up and down his back while kissing him on the temple. Mike was always at peace with Olivia—even if it was just talking. He couldn't figure out why someone so incredible was drawn to him. She was everything he didn't deserve, yet she was still here with open arms. He started thinking of something Max told him _'If you ever get lucky enough to get a one in a million woman, you don't question it…you just make sure that you don't screw it up.' _Thinking of Max's words brought on a new wave of tears. Mike couldn't remember the last time he cried—and certainly not the last time he'd cried in front of a woman. He didn't care and neither did Olivia. Right now, she was his lifeline on the world. He felt horrible for ignoring her, but she didn't deserve to be on the receiving end on his anger. He pulled away from her and looked into her eyes. There wasn't an ounce of pity as she wiped away his tears. Mike looked into her soft eyes and felt his pain starting to lessen. He could get lost in those eyes without hesitation. His eyes flickered to her mouth and before he could stop himself, he leaned in to capture her lips in a sweet kiss. Her lips were so soft and he wanted more. He nudged her lips opened with his tongue and moaned at the sensation of their tongues dancing together. Olivia pulled back first and gripped his face in her soft hands, "No Mike. You don't need this right now. Just feel it, don't try to run from it. You need to grieve Max. Don't distract yourself."

Mike felt like a fool and tried to move; Olivia pinned him down with her knees, "Don't think about leaving. You've had me going out my mind for days hoping that you're okay. I'm not rejecting you…I just don't want you to find an outlet without processing losing Max." Mike looked at her with red, glassy eyes, "Why are you so good to me?" She kissed him, "Because you're a good man." Olivia hugged him and scrunched her nose, "You're a good man that has been drinking too much and needs to have a homecooked meal. Do me a favor and use my shower. I may have some clothes that will fit you." Mike stood up and walked towards the bathroom. He turned the shower on and got undressed. He placed his clothes on the floor and stepped into the scalding hot shower. Olivia came in and quieted took his dirty clothes. She emptied his pockets, before placing them in the washer, and sighed as an empty bottle of whiskey fell out his jacket pocket. She threw it away and filled up the load of clothes. Mike didn't realize how soothing the shower was until he was still standing in the same spot for over 10 minutes. He reached for the bar soap that smells like mint. He was thankful that not all her soap smelled feminine. In hindsight, he wouldn't mind smelling like Olivia, she always smelled good. He got out the shower after another 10 minutes. Olivia left him some basketball shorts and a sleeveless shirt to wear. He walked out into the living room and his stomach grumbled as he smelled food cooking. He looked at her from behind, and she looked so domestic cooking dinner. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "What's all this?" "Chicken, beans, and rice." He kissed her shoulder, "It smells amazing. You didn't have to go through all of this for me." Olivia looked at him over her shoulder, "Shut up Mike. This doesn't take long to cook. As a matter of fact, it's done now." Mike hadn't let go of her, "Am I wearing the clothes of one of your ex-boyfriends?" The close proximity of their bodies let Mike feel Olivia's chuckles, "No. In Special Victims, we have vics of all ages, genders, and sizes. I try to always keep a spare outfit in each size in case they need it." Mike trailed light kisses from her shoulder to earlobe, "So, that's were you ended up? I think that's amazing. Victims are lucky to have you." Olivia laughed out loud and he ran his words through his head again, "That sounded better in my head." Olivia turned around, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him on the cheek, "I know what you meant. Grab a bowl." Mike devoured his dinner but suddenly started looking for something, "Where'd you put my clothes?" "In the washer, they had a slight stench to them." Mike looked down sheepishly, "You found the whiskey bottle?" Olivia shook her head yes. "Does it bother you that you found it?" Olivia rasped out, "I have an uncommon immunity to it. So no, it doesn't bother me as much as it probably should." Mike grabbed her hand from across the table and interlocked their fingers, "Want to tell me about it?" Olivia looked up and got drawn into his eyes; she felt her eyes well up, "My mother is a highly functioning alcoholic…I guess that was my fault, for being born." She pulled her hand away and swiped the tears away. Mike cleared his throat, "Your mom was raped?" Olivia's eyes shot up and widen at his question, "How did you know that?" Mike pushed his food away, "I know that Special Victims is a volunteer unit. Something had to really drive you to pick that unit. You said that you were the reason that your mom started drinking, because you were born. I just put two and two together." Olivia got up from the table and went to the window, "You're very perceptive as well Mike." Mike wiped his mouth with a napkin and walked over to her. He could see in her reflection that she was crying, and it made him want to kick himself. He pulled her into a tight hug before she could pull away and kissed the top of her head. He felt a few of her tears hit his forearm, "You don't have to hide from me either Olivia. We have a lot of similarities." She sniffled, "Like what?" He cleared his throat, "When I was a kid, I um I trusted my priest too much and he robbed me of my innocence. My mom, she was a lost cause; every time my pop hit her, she whacked me around. I started fights at school, nasty ones, to have explanations for the scrapes and bruises." Olivia felt her heart breaking for Mike; she turned around and kissed him on the lips. "I'm sorry that happened to you. In a way, I'm not because our pasts allowed us to cross paths. You aren't whatever your mother made you believe you are. You aren't a mistake." He ran his hand through her hair, "Neither are you. You have a purpose. Special Victims is your purpose." Olivia hugged him and pressed her chin into his chest as she looked up at him, "You have a purpose too. Solving homicides—the right way—is your purpose Mike." Mike cradled her face, "Max was right. I can't screw this up." she smiled at him, "We won't."


End file.
